The High Inquisitor
by Kiara Rosalee
Summary: Harry's fifth year told from the point of view of Dolores Jane Umbridge.


A/N Because I will not explain this in the story (I know it says it in the summary, but some peeps don't bother reading summaries, they just read titles.) This story is the fifth year told from Umbridge's point of view. Because I don't have the fifth book at hand at the moment, this first chapter will be a teeny bit shaky.

Prologue

"Bring me my wand, you brainless schlub!" I order to the dementor closest to me. He glides to the mahogany box on the high cabinet and opens it to reveal my wand, cushioned by a velvet-lined, swan feather pillow. He picks it up carefully and presents it to me. I do not bother to thank him.

"You forgot to close the box! Close it now!" I demand. "My tools deserve nothing but the best!" As he closes the box he emits a small growl like an animal. "All right. Banished!" I have had enough of this ungrateful dementor.

The rest of my servants stand back. They know what is coming. My traitorous servant stands in the middle of the room, unmoving.

"Expecto patronum!" I shriek and point my wand at the dementor. The familiar misty, silver cobra slithers out of the tip of my wand. He circles the dementor and soon covers him in a strong, silver glow. I force him toward the heavens and yell, "Banishio!" The dementor spins in sharp circles. The wind howls from the twister-like hole in the ceiling. The dementor swirls up, higher and higher, and disappears with a slight _zap!_.

The hole disappears and the rest of the dementors circle around me once more. After a servant is banished they are eager to assist me.

I collapse in my seat in fake exhaustion. I sigh deeply. My servants crowd around me, thinking I am truly tired.

"To make me happy, first of all, I will need some space," I say. They back away quickly. "Now, please fetch me some tea. Yes indeed, I will have cream and sugar," I answer the unasked question.

Three or four dementors trip over non-existent feet in a scurry to get to the door. When they leave, I turn to the other fifteen.

"Now, the rest of you may attend to the dust and cobwebs that have gathered here in my absence." They begin to glide toward the broom cupboard that I had fixed into my wall. "You there!" I point to a dementor at the end of the line. "Attend to that smudge on my shoe!" He grabs a dusting cloth and glides toward my desk.

"Not that, you stupid oaf!" I make the cloth vanish with a flick of my wand. "As I said earlier, my tools and myself deserve only the best to be kept in tip-top condition. Use a silken handkerchief instead." I flick my wand at a drawer and it opens to reveal red, gold, and white folded clothes. The dementor retrieves one, than sinks halfway into the floor to reach my shoe. He begins to polish.

Soon the other's return with my tea. They serve me, than help the others tidy the rest of my office. I pick up my wand and draw a greenish, transparent circle in the air.

"Spyglasscio!" I say, flicking my wand at the circle. Cloudy mist swirls inside the shape. "The Order of the Phoenix!" I say, flicking my wand once more at the circle. A picture begins to form.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, Nymphadora Tonks, the older Weasleys, and many more sit around a table. I laugh a little. They don't know we know they exist. I still cannot figure out their location, though, no matter how many "Specialis revelio" spells I fling at it.

I shush the dementors. McGonagall is saying something. "Auditorio!" I say and poke at the image with my wand. Sound emits from the picture.

"Mundungus is on duty for tomorrow," she says briskly. "For the protec- Mundungus! Are you listening?" The image floats to a corner of the table where a pile of rags is snoring. The pile snorts and a face emerges.

"What?"

"Mundungus, you are hopeless! Either listen, or get out!" McGonagall says.

"All right. I'll pay closer attention," Mundungus says.

"You'll pay _full _attention!" McGonnagal orders.

"Yeah, yeah," he says. He goes back to snoring.

_Duty for what? _I think. _What would any of these people be on duty for? _My question is then answered.

"As I was saying, for the protection of Harry Potter, someone will have to be on guard to make sure Mundungus doesn't sleep on the job," McGonagall says. So it's that Potter boy that they must protect.

My face cracks in a grin as I think of a wicked plan. I point my wand at Arthur Weasley. "Imperious." I whisper. In my mind, I can see Weasley clearly. _Raise your hand. Say, "I can do that." _I think. The Weasley in the circle obeys. He does exactly as I tell him.

"Good Arthur," McGonagall says. "Than we shouldn't have any trouble tomorrow." She than begins talking about further schedules. Bored out of my mind, I flick my wand at the circle and say, "Harry Potter."

The boy is sitting on a bed looking through a book. I adjust the screen to see what he is reading. _Quiddich Through the Ages. _I should have been expecting it. _Well, Mr. Potter. _I think. _You're in for a real treat tomorrow. _

"Alright boys," I say to my servants. I point two of my fingers at two dementors. "Let's have a little fun. You two," I motion for them to come to me. They glide to my desk. "Tomorrow I will imperious Mundungus Fletcher to leave Harry Potter. Of course Arthur Weasley, the muggle fanatic, will not remember what I imperioused him to say, so he will not be there to fill in for Mundungus. When I give you two the signal, you will find Harry Potter, and tease him a little. He will have to use magic to get rid of you. And then- Oh don't look at me like that!" Although their faces are covered, I can tell they are staring reproachfully. "Just because a Patronus weakens you is no reason not to obey me! It is a sacrifice I am willing to make!" They nod, but I do not think they are reassured. "Anyways, than Potter will be expelled, and Dumbledore won't be there to protect him! And then he can easily be killed!" I emit a wicked cackle.

I decide to check on the Order again. "The Order of the Phoenix," I say, flicking my wand. There is nothing to report. They are still talking about boring things. Nothing of importance to me. I am about to close the circle when I notice something. I have been to see Dumbledore at Hogwarts once before, and there is a picture in his office of Phineas Nigellus, former headmaster. In the circle, Phineas Nigellus is running through some of the portraits in the background. I know very well that a portrait can only run through the portraits of that in the same house, restaurant, or castle that his or her portrait is in.

Simple! I will find out where the Order of the Phoenix meets! I will simply ask Phineas where his other portrait is! Ha! But wait. How can I get into the castle? Ah. I remember that Hogwarts needs a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Parchment and quill," I order. A dementor fetches it for me from one of my desk drawers. "Ink too, you ugly urchin!" How stupid can these creatures get? He hands me a bottle of ink. I begin penning a letter to Dumbledore.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_How are you? How is Hogwarts? It has been far too long, Professor, and we must catch up! How about meeting for a drink in The Three Broomsticks? Friday evening at four? Let me know as soon a possible. I also have something we need to discuss. Alright. Ta ta for now. Write back._

_Sincerely,_

_Dolores Jane Umbridge_

As I read through it, I realize it sounds incredibly pathetic. But Dumbledore is pathetic, so maybe he won't notice. I vanish the quill and ink and call for my owl.

"Roderigo!" I call. My gorgeous eagle owl flies through the open window clutching a dead mouse in his mouth. "Do _not _drop that." I demand, disgusted enough as it is. Roderigo obeys. I tie the letter to his knobby leg and say, "Bring this to Mr. Dumbledore." Roderigo flies out the window and is gone.

I laugh my evil laugh again, and fall asleep in my chair.

A/N This is my first story, so review for this chapter and tell me what you think. Don't be afraid to tell me what you think needs to be changed. If you have any ideas, tell me and I might use it in my next chapter.


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